Letting Go
by Fearthainn
Summary: Post KOTORII fic. LSF Revan, LSF Exile. Two years after the end of the Jedi Civil War, Bastila Shan is learning that moving on is harder than it seems.
1. Prologue

Post-KOTORII. Spoilers for both games. All characters, locations etc. belong to LucasArts, Bioware and Obsidian—in other words, everyone but me.

A/N: I swore—I _swore_—that I would not write fic for this game. I promised and promised myself that I wouldn't, and yet here we are. The best laid plans... This story was started after I picked up KOTOR after a year-long hiatus; I managed to mess up my female!Revan/Carth romance and ended up with a lingering sense of incompleteness and one heck of a plot bunny.

**Letting Go**

_Prologue_

_ -s-s- _

"Jedi Bastila, your presence is requested on the bridge."

The tinny voice echoed through the chamber, drawing Bastila out of her meditative trance. She opened her eyes on a sparsely decorated room, identical in every way to every other guest room she'd stayed in on a dozen Republic ships. The only thing that set these quarters apart were their newness; the _Jagner Song_ was a brand-new Dreadnought on its inaugural run.

She reached out with the Force and switched the comm unit on. "Thank you, Lieutenant Krask, I'll be there shortly."

She rose to her feet and shook out her robes, pausing briefly to glance at her reflection in the mirror attached to the wall beside the 'fresher. She smiled at her reflection, acknowledging the vanity for precisely what it was. Her robes were clean and neat, her lightsaber clipped to her utility belt, hair neatly in place as it should be.

The very image of a Jedi Master.

Master. It still made her shake her head in wonder sometimes, that she, Bastila Shan, erstwhile Dark Jedi and prodigal Knight, could have attained such status. More often, she wondered if it were deserved. She didn't feel particularly wise, and most days it felt like she was just stumbling through, fumbling in the dark without guidance. The Exile had laughed at that, after Bastila had shared her doubts, and pointed out that _all_ the new Masters were in the same situation.

The thought wasn't comforting. Bastila's mouth twisted and she turned away from her reflection, heading for the door and out, toward the bridge.

Barely two years had passed since the Exile had beaten three Sith Lords single-handed and encouraged what was left of the Jedi to come creeping from the shadows. It shamed Bastila even now that she had fled from that battle, leaving the Exile to face the threat alone. In an attempt to make amends, when the Exile begun the work of rebuilding the Order with her small stable of Force sensitives and new-minted Jedi, Bastila had accepted the task of being its public face, traveling through the galaxy to remind people what the Jedi had been, and could be again. Most of her time was spent with the Republic Fleet, assisting the new commanders in whatever situations they found themselves in.

Of late her duties had brought her back in touch with an old friend. On the surface, Carth Onasi hadn't changed much since she'd last seen him. He was still handsome, still a soldier—an Admiral, now—still devoted to the Republic, with a few more grey threads in his brown hair, and the stern lines around his mouth a little more deeply etched. But the smile he gave Bastila on her arrival to his new flagship, the _Jagner Song_ had a hard time reaching his eyes, and he was even less forthcoming now than he had been when they met on the _Endor Spire_, nearly seven years ago.

She couldn't fault him for changing, though; it had been a hard few years for all of them. Only in the last year, with the main Sith leaders finally vanquished, had any of them been able to catch their breath and regroup, to pause and reflect on the past instead of charging headlong into constant battle. Only in the last year had Bastila finally realized that her link with Revan, the old Force bond that had tied them together through their quest for the Star Forge, had not just faded to imperceptibility.

It had disappeared entirely.

The only conclusion to be drawn was that Revan was truly gone. Not wandering around the Outer Rim, not hiding on some far off planet, not wreaking havoc amongst the Sith. Bastila had felt obligated to tell Carth. Out of everyone on that ill-fated mission to the Star Forge, they two had been closest to Revan. Even she wasn't sure _how_ close Carth and Revan had been—that Revan had loved him Bastila had no doubt, but to the best of her knowledge, the other woman had never acted on it. Carth was more difficult to read, his feelings a closed book to Bastila, but in all the years of Revan's long absence, he had never so much as glanced at another woman. Now Revan was dead, and Bastila didn't know if he would ever be the same. If any of them would be.

Bastila pushed those thoughts aside as she approached the bridge and palmed the door open, reaching into the well of the Force around her to steady and calm herself. The young troopers on guard at the door nodded to her in tandem as she passed. She spared them a smile and moved forward, to where Carth waited.

He stood in the centre of the bridge, just behind the navicomputer, legs braced against imperceptible movements, hands clasped behind his back as he took in all the activity around him. The _Jagner Song_ was a brand new ship, and the bulk of her crew of 1500 were new recruits. There were a few seasoned officers mixed in, but mos teveryone else was fresh out of the Republic training academy, on their first tour of duty. They all seemed so _young_; they made Bastila feel ancient, and she could only imagine how all this untrammeled youth and eagerness felt to Carth. Most of the bridge crew were watching them surreptitiously; Jedi were not all that common, and everyone on the ship idolized Carth, including the seasoned officers.

"Jedi Bastila," he said by way of greeting, and nodded at the young man stationed at the comm. "Go ahead, Lieutenant Krask."

"We've received a transmission, ma'am," the officer said. "A recording. It's marked for you, Master Bastila."

Bastila raised her eyebrows. "From the Council?"

"No ma'am, I don't recognize the code. It's been bounced around a bit, catching up with us, but it didn't originate from Coruscant."

"Patch it through to the briefing room, please, Lieutenant," Carth said. He added to Bastila, "You can view it there in private."

"You might as well join me. I have a feeling whatever this message is, it will probably concern you too."

Carth raised an eyebrow, but nodded, and he led her to the briefing room just off the main bridge. He seated himself at the head of the long table as Bastila cued up the message and stepped back.

With a faint crackle of static, the holo flickered into life. The shifting blue particles resolved into a slight female human with cropped hair, clad in plain trousers and an overlarge tunic that made her look smaller than she really was. A jolt of alarmed recognition coursed through Bastila, and she sensed Carth go very, very still.

"Hello, Bastila," said Revan.

-s-s-


	2. Part One

_Part One_

-s-s-

Bastila came to attention as though Revan was really there, an automatic response that she had never quite shaken. When Revan spoke, one sat up and listened, whether one wanted to or not.

"There's a heavily armed large fleet of unknown origin sitting just outside of the Wane system, on the edge of the Outer Rim. Atholl Wane is the only inhabitable planet in this sector, pastoral, with no weaponry to speak of. The planetary leaders have tried hailing, but are receiving no response. At a guess I'd say these guys are driving for the Penua shipping cortex and from there they'll probably set up a base and start making their way toward the Core. Unless someone shows up to stop them." The recording of Revan seemed to fix Bastila with a steely look. "It would be really nice if someone showed up to stop them. My coordinates are included with this recording. I suppose I'll see you soon."

The holo flickered out.

For the first time in ages, Bastila was at a loss for words. Seven long years had passed since the battle at the Star Forge, when Revan's faith and affection had brought her back to the Light, seven years of battles, and loss, and questions. Revan had vanished not long after the defeat of the Sith, disappearing into the vast reaches of space beyond the Rim without so much as a proper goodbye. The bond they shared, by which Bastila had held Revan to life when Malak had attacked his master so long ago, back before the Council had turned Revan into anonymous soldier Shara Galon, had faded to nothing. Bastila hadn't wanted to give up hope, unwilling to admit that if the link was gone, Revan was too. But eventually she had resigned herself to it, had accepted the loss and tried to move on.

Except that Revan wasn't gone.

Carth's voice jolted her out of her reverie; he sounded amazingly calm, considering the roil of emotion Bastila could sense in him. "You told me she was dead."

"I thought she was."

She could feel him digest that; set it aside for later. "Is it really her? Or some trick?"

"It's really her, I think." Bastila closed her eyes for a moment, reaching out through the Force, along the old bond. And there, at the end of it, was a flicker of presence. Huge relief swamped her suddenly, cessation of a loss she had been ignoring for years, as if she had suddenly regained use of a missing limb. "Yes. It's her."

Carth nodded slowly, then reached out to tap out a sequence on the comm unit—downloading the coordinates Revan had mentioned. He took the resultant datapad, glanced it over, then squared his shoulders and moved toward the door, his determination as compelling as Revan's had ever been. Bastila suppressed a sigh and followed, wishing once again he weren't so bloody _stubborn_.

"What are you going to do?"

"What do you think?" Carth stopped, tapping the datapad with the coordinates against his thigh. "We'll go. We always do." He hit the control panel to open the door, and started toward the bridge, his boot heels echoing sharply in the empty corridor.

She nearly had to run to keep up with him. "We can't just go charging off on a whim. We're supposed to be making rendezvous with the rest of the Fleet in two days, we can't simply abandon our responsibilities on her say-so!"

Carth stopped in front of the door to the bridge. "What do you suggest? That we stay here?" The door slid open with a hiss, and Carth strode onto the bridge, nodding at the officers who stood and saluted as he entered. "I'd have thought you'd be the first to want to go after her."

The deck went quiet, the officers on duty picking up on the edge in his voice, watching their Admiral and his Jedi friend with wide, worried eyes. Bastila shook off the twinge of self-consciousness and met Carth's gaze without flinching.

"Maybe it _is_ a trick," she said. "Maybe it wasn't really her. Maybe it's an old message."

Carth wheeled toward his communications officer. "That message for Jedi Bastila. Was there a time stamp on it?"

The young man nodded, flushing at the sudden attention. "Yes sir. Originated from..." his fingers tapped over his console, "from Penua, on the Outer Rim, approximately three weeks ago. At least, that's as far as I can track it right now, sir."

Bastila pressed her lips together as Carth looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. "That does not mean that we should go rushing off to the source like a flock of shyrack, without plan or focus."

"All right, then, fine. We won't go."

She opened her mouth to protest that—of _course_ they would go—then shut it with a snap, glaring. "Manipulative bastard," she muttered, but not loud enough for any of his officers to hear. Carth favoured her with a tight-lipped smile. She took a deep breath, reaching for some semblance of serenity.

"Captain Oortra," he said, raising his voice slightly. "We'll be making a slight detour. To Atholl Wane, near the Penua shipping cortex."

Oortra, Carth's Twi'lek second in command, cleared his throat. "Sir, Penua is on the other side of the galaxy from where we are. It'd take us days to get there."

"Then we'd better start right away," Carth replied. His expression was hard, his eyes shifting away from Bastila's to focus on something beyond the view port. "Captain, plot the quickest way to get us to Penua. We'll make our way to Atholl Wane from there."

"Sir, our orders are to—"

"I know what our orders are, Captain. Take us to Penua."

Oortra nodded, clearly uneasy, but his hands dropped to the console in front of him and he began punching in new coordinates. The rest of the crew kept their questions to themselves; their trust in Carth was absolute, their loyalty unstinting. Even before the Star Forge, he had had a gift for leadership, for inspiring trust. After the war and his promotion to Admiral, the loyalty of his subordinates had only grown. They would follow him into fire, these young men and women, with nary a question asked.

Bastila stepped closer to Carth, lowering her voice for his ears only. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," he replied, equally quiet. He glanced at her sidelong, his eyes unreadable. "You know as well as I do that we'd end up going anyway. This way, we'll save some time."

But he didn't look happy.

-s-s-

The trip to the Wane system would take a week, jumping from hyperspace point to hyperspace point, one end of the galaxy to the other. Bastila spent most of her time in her quarters, meditating and reaching out along the old Force bond for a sense of Revan. But it was closed to her—not absent, but blocked.

That alone was curious. Bastila had been so sure it had disappeared, and yet there it was. A Force bond shouldn't appear and disappear at will; once formed it ought to have remained constant, or having faded to nothing, stayed gone. She didn't believe Revan could have hidden her end of the bond so well that it couldn't be detected. It was something to bring to the Exile's attention, when she had a chance. The Exile knew much more about Force bonds than Bastila did.

She allowed her eyes to open on the bland surroundings of her cabin, swimming up out of her meditative trance with ease. It was almost time for her to make her daily appearance on the bridge. It was a formality, but Bastila's main purpose here was still to ensure the Republic crew could see her, if not in action, then at least in person.

Walking the ship's corridors was always a strange experience at the best of times. The crew treated her with a deferential awe that was disconcerting—they _were_ young, after all, and for many she was the first and only Jedi they'd ever met. She was better at hiding her discomfort at their hero worship now, but it was strange to know that when the crew looked at her, they were seeing a Jedi Master, some mythical, powerful creature, and not _her_.

The Exile kept telling her she had to stop thinking such things, to banish her doubts and have confidence in herself...but the Exile had never fallen. The Exile had never given in to the Dark Side and tried to destroy the Republic, had never served a Sith master, never been a Sith herself. That, Revan had always understood; it was something that had connected them, just as their bond had. _She_ had fallen too.

With an effort, Bastila clamped down on that train of thought. Dwelling on her past failures wasn't going to help matters. She squared her shoulders as the bridge doors slid open, and nodded at the guards as she passed.

Carth was there, as always, in his customary place behind the navicomputer; he nodded at her as she came to stand beside him. "We're dropping out of hyperspace in a few minutes," he said. "At Ord Mantell. A couple more jumps, and we should reach Penua."

"Good," Bastila replied. They hadn't spoken in the past few days, beyond the usual pleasantries. She wished she had more of a gift for people; she was sure that the Exile would have been able to find out what was going on behind his outward calm, but despite having known Carth longer, _she_ had no idea how to go about talking to him about what was on both their minds. Revan's name hung in the air like smoke.

The drop out of hyperspace went smoothly, star lines shortening into pinpoints of light around them until they drifted into orbit around Ord Mantell. Almost immediately, the comm beeped.

Lieutenant Krask, the officer on duty at communications, checked his instruments and cleared his throat, swiveling his chair to face them. "Sir, it's Admiral Dodonna. We've missed our rendezvous with the fleet, and she's demanding to know where we are."

"Thank you, Captain," Carth said, without a hint of surprise. "Put her through to the briefing room, please." He turned to go, Bastila falling in beside him without a word.

Admiral Dodonna—or at least, a holo of her—was waiting for them in the briefing room, her stern visage made more forbidding by the death glare she was directing at both of them. Carth came to attention, his expression carefully bland.

"What do you think you're playing at?" she demanded. "You're supposed to be meeting us near Abregado Rae, not traipsing off to the other end of the galaxy!"

"I'm sorry, Admiral. I'll return to the rendezvous point as soon as possible, but there's something else that requires my attention." Even in the face of Dodonna's wrath, Carth was calm, his voice firm.

"Something more important than following your orders? Something that requires you to go cavorting across the galaxy with a Republic Dreadnought and fifteen hundred crew in tow? _What_ is going on, Onasi?"

Bastila cleared her throat, drawing the Admiral's gimlet eye to her. "Revan has returned, Admiral Dodonna. She contacted us with news of an unidentified fleet near one of the Rim planets and asked us to intervene."

Admiral Dodonna looked, if possible, even more irritated. Revan's sudden disappearance had left a bad taste in many mouths. "And since when does _she_ issue orders to my fleet?"

Carth stiffened. "Admiral, I think we owe Jedi Revan _something_ for her actions on behalf of the Republic. If she says she needs help, I feel it is as much my duty to offer it as any order the fleet gives."

"Is that so." Dodonna's frown intensified. "Well, I suppose I can't stop you, Admiral. But I'm not sending more ships. You're on your own with this...and I sincerely hope you bring the ship you have back in one piece and with all her crew intact."

"I'll do my best," Carth said levelly. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me, Onasi. I'm certainly not thanking you. Dodonna out."

-s-s-


End file.
